


Warm like water

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gift Fic, Introspection, No HYDRA Takeover, season one based au, smut with a little plot, ward's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 08:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6230851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're aware that I'm responsible for you too, she asked once, jokingly and he brushed the issue aside. He didn't want to face the complicated emotions that her teasing, longing gaze stirred in him.</p>
<p>(the fic written for a prompt shower smut - after a long mission). I took some liberty with the mission part of the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm like water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrawnCrackers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrawnCrackers/gifts).



> My fellow **prawn-crackers** gave me this idea and I was just in the mood for some feelsy smut, so I tried to write that. I'm not sure how well I pulled it off, since this thing was written on sheer will and in spite of sleep deprivation. However, I definitely feel like there could be also Skye's POV and the morning after, so let me know if you're interested in reading more. 
> 
> Also, I am currently unspoiled for the show (as i decided not to watch second part of the third season because the previous one was upsetting enough) - so I would greatly appreciate you guys not to spoil me. Thanks!

Grant prided himself in his responsible driving, he was even known to lecture other fellow agents of haste on couple of occasions, but right now he was ready to throw each of his principles in the wind. The explosion that collapsed a building and subsequently the warehouse where Skye was hiding with her equipment was still echoing in his ears. For an infinite moment his heart felt like it had stopped as he saw himself in a Skye-less world, but then the tracking device Fitz equipped them both with brought him back to reality. It was still beeping somewhere on the car floor. Grant gripped the steering wheel and made a sharp turn, wan ting to get the hell away from the area still filled with smoke. He ignored the pain of his bruised knuckles and tried not to think of how he felt when he reached the warehouse rubble, determined to dig Skye out bare handed.

 

Which he did.

 

His hands were still shaking, though.

 

He glanced at her every three seconds. She had several cuts and a bruise on her left cheek, her hair was a mess filled with dust but otherwise she seemed fine. He still needed to make sure she was still there with him, living, breathing and trying to catch her breath.

 

“Are you okay?” he asked for the sixth time and she just nodded. The lack of any complaints on her behalf just proved how shaken up she was. “Don't fall asleep on me,” he instructed.

 

Skye proved to be obedient and uncharacteristically quiet and that just unnerved him even more. He was rushing, driving recklessly, trying to get them to safety. The nearest safehouse was three hours away, he reached it in nearly two. It was an actual house in a well populated area, safe, secured, well stocked and equipped (and also regularly used by SHIELD agents). The night was falling and if anyone saw them coming inside, the looked like a drunken couple holding onto each other, not two operatives who had nearly lost their lives due to badly prepared mission and walking into a trap.

 

 

Grant noted that Skye was favoring her right leg. They dropped their gear next to the entrance door. Once Grant locked it, he could take a deep breath and focus all of his attention to Skye. This wasn't her first close call, it was hardly her first failed mission; not the first explosion or the first opportunity in which he got her out of danger. But it was a different kind of first, despite her being shot that one time and surviving it; it was the first time something like this happened on his watch, _solely_ his watch. He was her SO for over a year now, and despite her gaining her badge she was still his rookie – no matter how many times he witnessed her competence and relied on it, she was always going to be the person he was responsible of – or so he thought.

 

( _You're aware that I'm responsible for you too?_ She asked once, jokingly and he brushed the issue aside. He didn't want to face the complicated emotions that her teasing, longing gaze stirred in him.)

 

Right now they were governing him. The concern for her, the sheer panic when he thought she died under the collapsing building, the sharp knowledge that she could have died right there coupled with adrenaline, exhaustion and awareness of his own injuries which he ignored up to this point. The bathroom was small but well lit and a well stocked first aid kit was inside the cabinet.

 

“I need to look,” he said and Skye just nodded without any further explanation. It wasn't the first time he checked her for injuries or stitched her up either. But it was the first time his hands were shaking.

 

They both worked on her tac gear until most of it was off, scattered around the bathroom floor. Grant ignored how dirty it was, he'd clean up later, he just wanted to see for himself the extent of her injuries. She had bruises along both of her arms, but all her bones were whole. There was a cut on her left arm, just below her shoulder that had stopped bleeding. He decided it would need two or three stitches, gathering everything he needed from the first aid kit and a washcloth. He never bothered with his own cleanliness like that, but as she sat on the edge of the bathtub he gently wiped her face, drawing breaths as she looked at him, not moving her eyes away. She didn't complain about the pain, she only winced twice. She didn't even complain that she was sitting there in her sports bra and he was methodically touching her all over, looking for contusions and inner bleeding and finding none. He was done and ready to pack everything away when her hand grabbed his.

 

“What?” he asked, worried that he missed something.

 

“Your cheek,” Skye said, and before he could wave it away, she was dabbing the same washcloth along his face, wiping away the dust and grime and blood. (Completely unsanitary, but he was too far gone to care.)

 

“Your leg,” he said then, kneeling down and untying her boots. It turned out to be just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious but still unpleasant.

 

“I – I really need to shower,” she said. Grant took in her appearance, the dust in her hair, the clothes he was going to throw away as soon as he made sure they had a spare complete in their bags. He nodded and helped her to her feet, helped her get rid of the cargo pants that stuck uncomfortably to her legs. Skye gave him an uncertain look when there was only her underwear left. There was something in her gaze that he didn't dare looking at for too long, instead he just assured her that she didn't have to strip all the way.

 

“We can take a shower like this,” he said when he was left in his briefs. “I'm staying. I don't want you to slip and fall.”

 

Inside the narrow space of shower stall Skye let him adjust the water. Lifting her right hand didn't work out and Grant found himself washing her hair, working in the scentless shampoo and washing it out as Skye's head bowed and her forehead touched his chest.

 

He could feel her deep shuddering breaths. He knew what was going through her mind when she touched his chest and kept her hand there, palm connected with his heartbeat. Despite his knowledge and training and self restraint he pulled her close, as the water poured over them. It was so ill advised but it was human. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her realizing they were both practically naked and alone and... when Skye looked up at him, scared and desperate and raw he realized he didn't care. He kissed her forehead, as she whispered she was scared, and he admitted he was terrified. Because he _was_. It wasn't something an SO was supposed to feel. Her hand trailed lightly down his chest. It was small but firm, warm and gentle. Their noses touched and she nuzzled the side of his face and then when he couldn't take it any more he pressed his lips against hers and kissed her.

 

It was like breathing new life into her. The fear coiled in her veins found its release as she stood on her toes and kissed him back, sloppy and wet. Her hand pressed against his dick and a moment later moved inside his underwear. He knew he should have stopped her, stopped _himself_ , but he _couldn't_ – they were both dancing along this edge too long and the leftover adrenaline was wrecking havoc inside of him. It didn't take him long at all until he came, one hand cradling Skye's head and the other pressed against the wet tiles.

 

She pressed kisses all over his chest as he breathed hard. She desperately did everything to feel him, until he gathered his senses because he had the same need. The intensity of his kiss was blinding, leaving Skye gasping for air. Her wet underwear gave way after several joint tries. Grant knelt in front of her, peeling down her panties and lifting her bad leg over her shoulder.

 

When he put his mouth on her she moaned.

 

She was wet, so very wet, desperate to find her release just like him. He wanted to tease her, make it as good and long as possible but he'd leave that for some other time should it arise. She made needy, urgent sounds when he slipped two fingers into her. Then he sucked her and she rode his hand, hard and fast until she came apart with a scream.

 

The water was cooling as they still kissed, more longing and less immediate urgency. Still they had to leave their sanctuary if they didn't want to get cold. Grant insisted they should dry properly, and that Skye should dry her hair, helping with the hairdryer as she stood against him naked. He kept kissing her, because she was there, because he could, because he _needed_ to.

 

Then they went to bed (bed that Grant would normally leave to Skye and go to sleep anywhere else), but this time she just faced him, still naked, pulling him down by the shoulders and kissing him open mouthed.

 

“Please,” she said and just like that his body was ready again. She climbed the bed backwards, spreading her legs wide for him. He moved over her carefully, afraid that he'd crush her, aggravate her bruises, but she just pulled him until he was between her legs and inside of her. “Please, Grant.”

 

He shut his eyes, struggling to keep himself in check, to go slowly. She was so warm and tight and he felt like he was in heaven. As if he never had sex before – well he didn't with _Skye_. Her kiss was desperate, the same way he felt as he rocked his hips into hers and she moaned at every movement. She whimpered and pleaded with him until he could take no more – it wasn't just about how badly she needed him, it was about him needing her and finally saying those words to himself, now, when she was alive and beneath him, begging him to fuck her faster.

 

And he wanted to, so badly, he needed it just like she did. Skye's kiss was bruising. She bit his lip in a challenge and he responded by biting her neck. Her legs wrapped around him, as if she wasn't bone tired just like him, as if she wasn't hurt, because the need to feel alive overpowered everything – and had she been anyone else he could keep himself away even as he fucked so hard she was starting to scream.

 

With her, every sound that left her mouth, every breath from her lungs was the proof that she was still here, that the world was still in place.

 

He came with a groan, unexpectedly, without any gentleness he always secretly wanted to give her. Skye just held him in place, as heavy as he was, telling him that she wanted it. That his weight was comforting. Eventually he had to move, had to leave her arms and her body.

 

He fell asleep surrounded with her warmth.

 

 

 


End file.
